


What Hurts?

by PropShopHannah



Series: ACoTaR/ACoMaF prompts and asks [3]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M, Feyre gets her period, Worried Rhys, feysand, period
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-22
Updated: 2016-11-22
Packaged: 2018-09-01 14:17:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8627794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PropShopHannah/pseuds/PropShopHannah
Summary: Anonymous asked:Can u do one where Rhys shows up at the house and legit freaks out because he smells blood then realize it feyers cycle and buys a carp ton of chocolate and food and she all like alls I wanted was you wink wink





	

Rhys felt Feyre tug on the bond, felt the wave of pain that accompanied it. He stood up and stalked across the Night Court throne room toward Cassian, completely ignoring Keir.

“Finish up here,” he said, motioning to Cassian. Then he stalked down the hall and winnowed once he was out of sight.

He landed in the entryway of the townhouse and registered two things at once.

The first was that Feyre was not at her easel painting where she usually was in the afternoons. The second was that the whole house reeked of her blood. Panic gripped his heart, paralyzing him for a moment. Then he started moving.

He ran through the rooms downstairs–the living room, formal dining room, kitchen, study, office, actual living room. Nothing.

_Where are you where are you where are you_

A hot and cold sweat broke out over his skin. She didn’t answer.

“FEYRE,” he yelled as he took the stairs two at a time. All thoughts of winnowing gone for fear that if he didn’t physically move through every part of the house he could miss her.

He checked the bedrooms, his office, the bathrooms, the closets–the smell of blood so fresh and raw and pungent it flooded him with fear and made him unable to think about scenting for anything else.

“FEYRE,” he yelled again, desperately tugging on that bond between them. He got no answer. “Fuck.”

 _Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,_ he thought, turning in place. _Where is she? Where would she go if she were hurt?_

Amren’s house. Maybe. But Amren would have sent someone to get to him. _Not if it was so bad that she couldn’t waste the effort_ , he thought.

He was going to be sick. Mor, Cassian and Azriel were all at the Night Court. Amren was the only one Feyre would go to if she needed help. He raced for the front door, checking every corner and surface for any sign of her. He hurled himself down the staircase. Then stopped.

The roof.

He turned around and took the stairs three at a time, then hurled himself at the door to the roof. The afternoon sunlight was blinding. But there–on one of the sun chairs–was Feyre. Curled up under a blanket. He scanned the patio and surrounding roof tops for any sign of danger as he ran to her.

He knelt down and scented her. She reeked of blood.

“Feyre?” he said, pulling the blanket down to check her for injury. He saw none. His panic was so real, so thick, that he could not put together why he smelt blood but didn’t see it. She stirred with a groan. His hands went to her face immediately.

“Hey–hey, look at me. Darling, look at me,” he said. “What’s wrong. What happened.” He searched her eyes. She looked confused, sleepy– _pain._

Feyre curled in on herself with a groan, and Rhys had her in his arms in  a second. He winnowed them to their bedroom and laid her on the bed.

“What hurts?” he said pulling the blanket off her and once again scanning her for blood.

“Stomach,” she said, curling onto her side. Rhy immediately lifted her shirt. She smacked his hand away. “What are you doing?” she said.

“You called me down the bond–in pain. I get home, and the whole house reeks of blood, and I couldn’t find you. What happened, what’s wrong?”

If she hadn’t been in so much pain, and if the look on his face hadn’t been so heartbreakingly fearful, she might have laughed. She took his hand and squeezed it as another cramp spasmed across her lower abdomen.

“I’m fine,” she grit out. “It’s just my cycle.” Relief flooded Rhys’s face and body.

“Thank– _shit_ ,” he said, leaning his forehead onto her hip as the rest of his body sagged. “I thought–I don’t know what I thought, but _fuck_.” He sat back and looked at her. He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been that scared.” He kissed her forehead, her cheek, her lips. “What can I do?”

She groaned as another cramp rolled through her. He hated seeing her like this. Hated that she was in pain and that there was nothing he could do about it.

“Something for the cramps would be helpful,” she said. “I was on the roof when it started and it got so bad I didn’t want to winnow to the kitchen because then I’d have to stand u–” she writhed on the bed.

“I’ll be right back,” Rhys said. He winnowed to the kitchen and found the tonic she usually took when her cycle became too painful. He hated that she’d been stuck on the roof, that there had been no one to help her–that _he_ had not been there to help her.

He winnowed back to their room and gave her the tonic. He kissed her head as she took it, and he whispered to her that he would be right back.

He winnowed to the market. It was late in the afternoon, but their favorite chocolatier was always open late. Rhys greeted the owner and then bought two of everything. With three huge bags full of chocolate, he walked back out onto the street. He winnowed to one more store before he went back to the town house.

He carried his goods up to their bedroom. Feyre was still curled up on her side. She looked slightly sweaty, but he could tell her pain was waning.

“I got you a few things,” he said. She raised her eyebrows.

“I think you got more than a few things, Rhys.” He smiled and padded over to the velvet divan where he laid out the items.

“I got you three bags of chocolates,” he said. A wave of male satisfaction rolled through him when Feyre sat up. “And,” he opened the fourth bag, “I thought we’d both look smashing in new pajamas.” He pulled out a matching set of his and hers flannel pajamas. Each consisted of a long sleeve button up shirt, and long, comfortable pants.

Feyre laughed.

“May I?” Rhys said, shaking out the smaller set for her.

“You may,” she said. Rhy snapped his fingers and suddenly they were both wearing the matching pajamas.

“Rhys,” Feyre groaned, grabbing her chest. “My bra.”

“Oh, shit,” he said, snapping his fingers to put her bra back on. A second later, she straightened. “I’m so sorry. I forgot,” he said. She smiled, taking a bag of chocolate from him and moved over to make room.

“It’s okay. Sometimes when they hurt–like right now–it feels better to leave it on.” Rhys settled into bed next to her.

“I’m sorry for forgetting, darling,” he said, kissing her cheek. “Do you need anything else?”

She shook her head. “Nope. All I wanted was you.” She settled into his chest and he wrapped his arms around her.

“Well, you have me.” He kissed the top of her head.

She hummed a reply and fell asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm PropShopHannah on tumblr


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